Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. “You had only to ask——” “Do you think,” Anna interrupted, with a note of passion trembling also in her tone, “that I would have taken alms from Sir John, the man to whom I had lied for your sake. She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. “Your mother was a Gypsy. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. “I think she would,” she decided. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. The world, she discovered, with these matters barred had no particular place for her at all, nothing for her to do, except a functionless existence varied by calls, tennis, selected novels, walks, and dusting in her father’s house. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. The door of cabin 2 was open.
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